Deja Vu All Over Again and Again

Cripes, I really must be losing it. I discovered I had blogged twice about Mary Seagull. Maybe it's time to pack it in, or else do the Proust bit and write a humongous tome on all these things which keep popping up.

Speaking of popping up, big class reunion soon, and the bathroom scale has gone weird and posts the weight du jour with no relationship to yesterday's. According to the scale, S.O. gained 7 pounds in one day! My god, I would faint if greeted with that news. Popping out, not up.

So, I will schlep a few copies of The Shadow Warriors to the reunion, since I suspect no one has braved Amazon or the publisher to buy any copies, or even made inquiries. I tell you this business of writing is strange. Some of my so-called friends totally ignore the fact that I am an author. One has even said she doesn't want to read my book in case she doesn't like it and would have to tell me. None of that crowd bought so much as one copy. I wonder if they think I have written about them. Sorry, gang, but no. God knows there is plenty of material, but the story has no shape, and so is a series of gossipy incidents, not a book. People are so vain. Why would I write about them? Others have at least bought a copy, and not read it or maybe were horrified that I didn't write about the Sunday school picnic. If I had, there would have been fornication behind the apse or some such nonesense. Maybe even swear words.

Of course other friends have actually read the book and had interesting things to say about it.

I am obviously in bitchy mode today. So far, all the class reunions have been fun. My high school is dead on where Michener set Centennial, and the tiny town seems kind of down and out, now, but at least there's a new Microtel. Microtel is pretty cool--a place for everything and everything in it's place, sort of like a sailboat's cabin. Bring your shampoo. Only soap is provided. None the less, I liked it. Liked the price, too.

Are we the only people who can't afford $600 a night hotel suites? Sometimes it seems that way. Maybe I should stop reading the NY Times and the Journal and the travel magazines. Like my cat, I'm not ashamed to wear the same clothes two days in a row.

Right now I have to: clean up the kitchen, put the towels in the dryer, finish the grocery list after a bit of menu planning, do something with my hair. Set it on fire? Now there's an idea that goes way beyond sucking it up. Isn't life exciting?

Not today, kids. Not a single dot.com moment and no quaffing of the kool aid.

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